


Silent Screaming Steven

by Professor_Fluffy



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Domestic Violence, M/M, Murder, Non-Con between OCs, dexter au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Fluffy/pseuds/Professor_Fluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's Dark Passenger made it out of the ice alive and well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Screaming Steven

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger Warnings** : This story contains a brief non-graphic rape scene between two OCs, Violence, Discussion of Domestic Violence, and Murder. 
> 
> There was a picture of Steve with the punching bag on Marr's tumblr, and I'd just finished watching the episode of Dexter where he hid the body in a punching bag at the gym. This popped into my head.

Manhatten 2012  
Sleeping Sentinel Steve.

I could feel it curling in my stomach, waiting. Hungry. Demanding in a way I hadn’t felt since before the ice. “I’m going out.” When I looked down, my hands were shaking. I prayed they wouldn’t notice. 

Tony with his dark eyes, always watching, looked at the root beer bottle I’d set on the table, right next to an empty coaster, and frowned. “It’s movie night. You never miss movie night, Steve.” 

“First time for everything.” The others were watching me too. I felt the sweat trickle down my back. I calmed my breathing and nodded, settling in to watch the rest of the film. When the credits were done rolling, I bolted for the door.

Brooklyn 1941  
Seriously Sickly Steven. 

I watched the girl get into the car, she was lovely, light and graceful, the type of girl who would never look twice at a skinny brat like me. I’d just started to walk away when the screams began. When I darted back down the alley, she was already dead, her neck parted like a fine piece of silk. There was a man, looming over her, rutting into her. The familiar rage settled in the pit of my stomach, heavy and cloying. The knife was on the ground by the open door. I didn’t hesitate. I could feel it all the way up my arm as I plunged the blade into his chest. I stabbed him in a frenzy until my hair was plastered to my forehead and strong arms pulled me away. I swung around, but my new assailant disarmed me easily. 

“Hey, easy kid. I’m not going to hurt you.” He looked at the body. “If you hadn’t, I woulda,” he spat. 

He held out a hand, “James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

I stood, gasping for breath, looking up at him, “Steve Rogers.” 

“Ok, let’s get you back to my place, get you cleaned up.”

 

Manhatten 2012  
Truly Trespassing Tony

I could feel the creeping sensation of someone watching me, I rubbed my bloody hands against my apron and looked up. Tony was standing at the end of the alley, eyes white with shock. “Come out Tony. I’m not going to kill you.”

Tony slid his hands in his pockets and walked toward me with a deceptively slow gate. He was shaking. It set my teeth on edge. 

He stopped several feet away, keeping a safe distance between us. “Sure, if someone had asked me an hour ago, I’d have said you wouldn’t kill anyone Steve. What the fuck?”

I looked at the body. “He was a pedophile.”

Tony couldn’t stop staring at the body. “That’s what we have the justice system for.”

 _They’ll never understand you, Steve._ How often had Bucky told me that. Over and over. “How often have the Avengers answered to a judge and jury, Tony? The American people deserve justice. Not rapists sitting in cells for five years and getting early parole.”

“The people we fight are monsters, Steve, they’re too powerful for the police or the military.”

I wiped the blade on my jeans. Black instead of my usual blue. “These people are just a different kind of monster, don’t defend them to me. Thanks to all the red tape wrapped around our justice system, our police and military can’t handle them. I can.”

“And when the public finds out that Captain America is a serial killer? What then?”

I ignored the wash of panic, and began bagging the body. “Are you going to tell them?” 

Tony startled. “No, of course not. Here, let me help you.” 

I paused, surprised. “Why?”

“You’re still an Avenger, Rogers.” Tony paused. “And you only kill rapists, right?”

“Rapists, pedophiles, murderers, only the monsters. Like me.”

Tony frowned. “You’re not a monster.” 

I could tell he meant it, who’d have thought, Tony Stark, _naive._ “Right. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” 

“Bring him back to the lab, I can come up with something better than dumping the bodies in the damned east river.” 

“You’d be an accessory.” I felt weirdly protective of them, my new family, in a way I hadn’t felt protective of anyone since Bucky and Peg. Especially Tony. He smelled like prey, he walked like prey, talked like prey, all bravado and one-upmanship , but he fought with everything he had, he resisted, and I liked that a little too much, needed to distance myself from him.

“I already am.” Tony grabbed the bag and hauled.

I grabbed the other end, and paused, curious. “Why are you doing this?”

Tony’s face was beautiful in the shadows. “Maybe if you’d been around when I was a kid, I’d never have ended up in Afghanistan.”

It hurt, because he was probably right. I could sense other predators, especially the ones like me, who hid behind masks of civility. And I would have killed Obadiah Stane, I would have taken great pleasure in ending his life. I thought about it every time I looked at the glowing blue light in Tony’s chest, like a beacon. 

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me how Captain America became a serial killer.” 

I startled, looking at his face, illuminated by the soft blue light. “You should really cover that.” I hated asking. “Someone might see us.” 

“Next time.” 

“There’s going to be a next time?” I frowned. 

“You tell me.”

“I figured out at a young age that I needed to kill. My father was an alcoholic. He beat the shit out of my mother almost every night. He tried to hit me a few times, but she was always there, always in the way. There was this rage in me, I couldn’t control it. Maybe Bruce and I have more in common than he thinks. She found this cache of animal skulls, my early kills. There was a yappy little pomeranian that kept my mother from sleeping at night, and I dismembered it, but I was careless. I buried it too close to the surface. The next time it rained, the bones washed up in her garden plot. She told me I shouldn’t kill the innocent, that I shouldn’t harm animals or people who’d never harmed anyone. One night my father broke my nose. The next day when he was at the docks, she asked me if I’d ever killed a man, she told me, men and women like my father, who hurt children, who hit people, bullies, sometimes they deserve to die. He came home, more drunk than usual, and he beat her until her face was purple. She was pregnant, and he beat the baby out of her. The next day, he disappeared. They never found the body. She never asked. And I never said anything.”

Tony helped me slide the body into a giant incinerator. We stripped out of our sticky clothing and tossed it in the shop laundry machine. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“It’s not your fault. I've always had this hunger. I've killed abusive husbands, murderers, men who hit their children, men who rape their families. I was frail and skinny, but I was smart. Eventually I had Bucky. He wasn’t like me, but he understood. I thought maybe if I went away to war, I could put my craving to better use. I told Erskine I didn’t want to kill, and it’s true. I don’t want to kill. I’ve never wanted to kill. I wish I didn’t have this compulsion. I don’t like bullies, which is too mild a word. So yes, I would have killed Obadiah Stane. Sometimes I wish I could bring him back and kill him again, when I look at you, it's a compulsion. I thought maybe Erskin's program would fix me, take the dark passenger away, but it didn’t. Maybe this is what I’m supposed to be. What I’m supposed to do.”

Tony cupped my face, and I pushed into the touch, starved for affection, for someone who saw me for what I really was.

“I think I understand. Let me help?” he whispered against my mouth, dragging me toward the shower.

I let him lead the way, bone weary, curling toward him. He scrubbed the blood off of me, leaning into the warm spray. For the first time in months I felt a sense of purpose and acceptance.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if there's any interest in this, because I'm seriously thinking about doing a longer story in this AU.


End file.
